


psychosomatic

by the_littlest_goblin



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Philosophical talk, Vague Discussions of Trauma, fjorclay week, just the way we like it, the line between platonic and romantic is so blurred as to be invisible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23758603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_littlest_goblin/pseuds/the_littlest_goblin
Summary: Some wounds hold on longer than others. Below deck on the Ball-Eater, Fjord and Caduceus discuss pain and healing.A loose interpretation of the Fjorclay Week day 1 prompt: post-battle
Relationships: Caduceus Clay & Fjord, Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Comments: 16
Kudos: 117





	psychosomatic

**Author's Note:**

> Initially I sat down to write something for day 7: nature, but you know how these things go. Got a little bit of both prompts in the mix but it felt more suited to day 1 so I hustled to finish in time.

It’s hard to meditate on a boat, as Fjord was discovering.

He’d assumed that the steady motion over the waves would be soothing, like a cradle rocking a baby to sleep, but the rhythm was too choppy to lull him into serenity, and the shouts above deck as the Mighty Nein switched shifts with the Ball-Eater’s crew kept drawing his eyes open. 

And even if they hadn’t been so loud, the lingering ache in his chest was proving to be quite the distraction.

He rubbed the spot in frustration, though he could barely feel the touch through his armor. 

He hadn’t removed the armor once since that fight. 

It was even more annoying that this particular wound still bothered him so much, considering that they’d been through another battle since then. He'd sustained plenty of injuries in the fight with the dragon turtle, magically treated but still only a few hours old, which by all rights should have been much more tender than any remnants of the attack from Uk’otoa’s minions.

But none of the dragon turtle’s slashes or bites or scalding breaths had killed him.

His chest throbbed at the thought.

_Focus. Focus._

But that was the infuriating thing about meditation, you _couldn’t_ focus on it, or at least Fjord couldn’t, because then he got wrapped up in thinking about how he was focusing, and thinking about how he wasn’t able to focus, instead of letting his mind go blank like he was supposed to.

He’d vented this frustration to Caduceus once, and Caduceus had said that he always started meditation by concentrating on his breathing, letting the physical act and motion encompass all his thoughts.

That was harder to do when every breath tugged at the scarred skin over his sternum, the very thing Fjord was trying to meditate away from.

Maybe that was his problem. He was too focused on that one particular goal of avoidance for the quietude to properly take hold.

It was times like this that he wondered if the Wildmother regretted reaching out to him. He didn’t know much about paladins, but if Melora’s champions were supposed to be calm, sure centers of wisdom, like Caduceus, then Fjord had certainly been a mistake. He was more suited to panicking and poking things that weren’t meant to be poked, and he was never sure of anything, ever.

“There you are.”

Fjord peeped one eye open to see Caduceus standing in the doorway of the captain’s quarters, hair windswept and smelling of the sea. It was a good look on him.

“Sorry, did you need me?” Fjord made to stand up, almost eager for an excuse to abandon his futile meditation in favor of an easier distraction. He wasn’t wishing for another monster attack or anything, but an ordinary, non-lethal crisis requiring the captain’s attention wouldn’t be amiss right now.

“Not at all.” Caduceus waved for him to sit back down, and Fjord tried not to look too put out as he plopped back into his crosslegged seat the floor. 

He adjusted his position, idly massaging a cramp in his calf. How long had he been sitting here?

“I was just curious where you’d got to," said Caduceus. "Everyone else is still up on deck. Jester thinks she’s found a new constellation.”

“Is it shaped like a dick?”

Caduceus nodded. “She wants to name it after the Traveler. Caleb’s trying to convince her that it’s actually part of a larger constellation of Ioun and already has a name.”

“Good luck with that, Caleb,” Fjord laughed. Caduceus joined him with a chuckle.

“I was just, er, meditating,” said Fjord. He wanted Caduceus to know that he still did it and to be proud of him, which was stupid as hell, and he hated himself for it a tiny bit. “Or, trying to.”

“Oh?” Caduceus raised his eyebrows, stepping forward into the room and lowering himself to sit next to Fjord. “What’s getting in your way?”

“Oh, just, you know,” Fjord waved a hand vaguely, which somehow ended up once again lingering near the center of his chest. Caduceus’ eyes narrowed.

“Is it still bothering you? Do you want me to…” He raised a hand, already beginning to make the motions for a healing spell. Fjord shook his head.

“No, no, don’t waste a spell on it. It’s barely a twinge. I—” he cut himself off, suddenly terrified of the words that had arrived, unbidden, at the tip of his tongue.

But Caduceus, the perceptive bastard, did not let his stuttering slide. “What is it, Fjord?” he said, voice low and serious and inviting.

Fjord’s brain was already searching for a lie to cover the slip. Against his better instinct, he stuck a hand into the gears of his mind, grinding them to a halt.

He was getting better at telling the truth, at least within the group, but it was harder to be honest out here, with a whole crew looking to him for leadership and the faint memory of Avantika still tucked into hidden corners of the hull. He’d told some of his biggest lies on this ship, and such deeply ingrained habits didn’t die easily.

But he _could_ be honest, he was allowed to show weakness, and if there was one person he was willing to divulge the dark corners of himself, it was Caduceus.

“I’m not sure it would work,” he admitted.

Caduceus cocked his head, a familiar look of confusion clouding his features. Fjord elaborated without waiting for him to ask.

“The healing magic, I—I’m not sure it would help at all. With this.” He gestured weakly at his chest, and as he did so, his hand found the holy symbol that Caduceus had given him, pinned in a place of pride at the front of his cloak. He traced the pattern of seaweed with one absentminded finger, finding the rough texture of the carving oddly comforting.

“Why wouldn’t it work?” Caduceus asked. His pupils were blown wide in the low candle light. He saw so much, Fjord often forgot that firbolgs had no darkvision to speak of. Looking into those deep, round saucers, Fjord was reminded of a bit of a puppy dog, and he huffed a laugh at the comparison.

Caduceus only looked more confused at that. Feeling in slightly better spirits, Fjord answered, hand still on the symbol.

“You and Jester have healed me a dozen times over since that fight. The wound is as cured as it’s going to get. If it still hurts, it’s not a pain you can do anything about.”

Caduceus hummed. He looked down, chewing on his words the way he sometimes did. When he brought his eyes back up to meet Fjord’s, there was a new intensity there, considering Fjord with that eerily knowing expression.

“Sometimes pain hangs on for a while after the skin has healed over.”

Caduceus reached forward and took Fjord’s hand, the one not fiddling with the holy symbol, and guided it over to lay on the small of his back. Surprised, Fjord let him.

Unlike Fjord, paranoia had not compelled Caduceus to wear his armor into the night. Fjord felt the silky fabric of Caduceus’ shirt under his fingers, and the soft fuzz of Caduceus’ hand laying overtop of his, holding it in place, but nothing else that would explain the movement. 

“It still twinges sometimes,” Caduceus said softly. “You know, when I died a while back from Nott’s explosive arrow, I didn’t feel the blast. I was unconscious, and the burns healed easily. At the end of the day, it was no big deal.” He paused. “Well, it was sort of a big deal, but the injury itself didn’t stick with me. But this,” he pressed Fjord’s hand harder into his back, and maybe it was his imagination, but Fjord thought he could detect a slight difference in texture, like the raised skin of a healed-over cut.

“This one hurt. A lot.” Caduceus lifted his hand from Fjord’s, but Fjord held his fingers there for just a second longer as the memory finally clicked into place: shopping at Pumat Sol’s, all those weeks ago, and a sudden grunt of pain from Caduceus their only warning before they all saw the blood. So much blood, and the smirking face of the Inevitable End pulling her knife out of their chief healer’s back before melting into the floor.

“Pain doesn’t just live in the body. It lives in the mind.” Caduceus didn’t comment on the fact that Fjord was still touching him, and it was this lack of acknowledgment, ironically, that made him retract his hand. He didn’t move away, though, instead placing his hand next to Caduceus’ crossed knee and settling his weight on it so that he was still leaning somewhat into Caduceus’ space. Not enough to be rude, but enough to be close.

“I’m sorry,” he said, because he was. He didn’t want Caduceus to be in pain, even if it was just a twinge of an old injury. If he could prevent Caduceus from ever being hurt again, he would.

He’d used his new-found healing abilities for the second time in the dragon turtle fight. Beau had taken the full brunt of its tail and gone down hard, with both clerics on the other end of the ship, too far to get there in time.

It was an exhilarating feeling, bringing a teammate back from the edge, watching bones restructure and skin suture itself under his command, even if it was only just enough to get Beau’s eyes fluttering open. It was different from the satisfaction of landing a critical blow to the enemy or of summoning a demon onto the battlefield, but it was more thrilling than he would have thought. 

Was that how Caduceus felt every time he saved their sorry asses from death? Or was it just another day at the office for him?

“Pain is one of the most natural things in the world. It’s how we know we’re still alive,” Caduceus continued. “But that doesn’t mean it’s going to be pleasant.”

“I’m learning that nature isn’t really about being pleasant, or nice.” Fjord said. “Sometimes you get a peaceful stroll along the beach, other times a giant carnivorous plant swallows you whole in the jungle.”

Caduceus laughed, a bright sound like the chime of the Xhorhaus’ alarm system. 

“Exactly.”

“So you’re saying that this,” Fjord finally lifted his hand from the symbol and waved it over the area of his scar, “is like a lesson from nature? Not pleasant but important?”

“I’m saying that… your pain is not a mark of personal failing. No matter where that pain comes from. Here,” Caduceus touched one long finger to the center of Fjord’s breastplate, “or here.” He moved the finger to tap Fjord’s temple, brushing one errant strand of hair away as he did so.

He didn’t linger in the contact nearly as long as Fjord had, and Fjord found himself a little disappointed. There was something rejuvenating about Caduceus’ touch, like the sense-memory of a _Cure Wounds_ spell being cast. No magic, but that same feeling of warmth washing over him.

“Thank you, Caduceus,” Fjord whispered. He paused, wondering if he should leave the conversation there, but words continued to flow out of him determinedly. “I know you said, back when you gave me this,” Fjord’s hand returned once again to his symbol of the Wildmother, “that I didn’t, you know, need your guidance anymore. But I want you to know I still very much appreciate it.”

Caduceus’ smile was brighter than any star in any dick constellation Jester could find. “I’m always happy to help."

“I wish you would let us return the favor, sometimes.”

Caduceus’ smile wavered ever so slightly.

“Just…” Fjord cleared his throat. He hadn’t really expected the conversation to go in this direction, but, here they were. “You never mentioned anything, about your back still bothering you. Even if none of us could help heal it, physically… you can tell us, when you’re hurting. You can tell me.”

If Fjord didn’t know better, he would have thought Caduceus was angry at this pronouncement. His mouth hardened into a line as he pursed his lips, his wide eyes looking away from Fjord. But when he spoke, his voice was softer than ever, without a single trace of resentment.

“I’ll try,” he sighed. “It’s not really my nature to share what I’m feeling.”

“Well, nature’s all about change, isn’t she?” Fjord leaned even closer to catch Caduceus’ gaze again, flashing him a smile that he hoped might lighten his mood a little bit.

“You make an excellent point,” Caduceus admitted, eventually smiling back at Fjord. 

Fjord couldn’t say, looking back, what made him do it. Whether it was the strange mix of emotions that had roiled in his chest ever since they’d embarked from port, or the lateness of the hour, or the small tinge of sadness at the edge of Caduceus’ smile and in the deep recesses of his eyes. Whatever it was, a faint memory flashed in Fjord’s mind of a friend long gone and much better at giving comfort than himself. He’d learned a lot from that friend, and decided, without really thinking, to take another page from his playbook. 

He pushed himself up a bit, straining the sore muscles in his legs to press his lips to Caduceus’ forehead. 

There was no healing spell cast though the kiss, but he liked to think that maybe Caduceus could feel a small amount of the same solace Fjord had found in his touch.

When he pulled away, Caduceus' sad smile had faded away into a calm, serene expression. 

"How about we try that meditation again?" he said. "I find it can often times be easier to center yourself with a partner."

"Gladly," Ford replied. Caduceus laid both his hands out in front of him, and Fjord placed his own into those open palms. That same warm energy flowed back and forth through the connection, a two-way street. 

Fjord closed his eyes, anchoring himself down to those points of contact. His breath began to even out slowly, the strain in his chest no longer dragging his attention as he relinquished his consciousness into Caduceus' grasp.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](https://the-littlest-goblin.tumblr.com)!


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